


Adagio

by winterssheild



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, But chapters will be marked, Cutting, Deppression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Clint, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Steve Rogers, Service Animals, Slow Build, Sniping bros, Steve Feels, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 19:37:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5468474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterssheild/pseuds/winterssheild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adagio - in slow tempo.</p><p>-x-</p><p>“Well then, c'mon,” <br/>The Soldier was immediately on high alert, the run snapping back into position as he took a step away. What was this man playing at? Where did he want him to go? He wasn't going back to HYDRA. He didn't know this man, though the man seemed to know his mission—The Captain. And while The Soldier didn't know what he was running from exactly he know in part it had something to do with that man. No matter what he did, he couldn't seem to get away from that man. There were parts of him that wanted to go back to the man to try and understand who he was, but he couldn't risk going back. It was to dangerous.<br/>“No.” He croaked, “I don't want to see him.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adagio

**Author's Note:**

> Its been far to long since I last wrote anything and now that I'm actually feeling inspired this is what happened.   
> This story will have triggers, but i'll make sure to say something at the beginning of the chapters for anyone who wants to skip it. this story is unbetad so sorry for any mistakes. I will go through this and fix everything I can, so sorry in advanced for any and all mistakes. I will attempt to update this fic as often as I am able, but be patient.   
> This story was originally inspired by the song 'When I look at you" and then started to grow. Ill put the songs that inspired each chapter in the notes in case any of you want to go and listen to them a while.   
> With all that said hope you enjoy and have an awesome day.
> 
> Song Insperation - Our Loved Ones - Volbeat

“You know, Caps been looking everywhere for you,”

The Soldier spun around instantly, gun cocked and aimed at the mans head. It was truly a testament to just how worn he was if this man had been able to sneak up on him so easily. He had lost track days ago of how long it had been since he had last slept and ate. But it didn't matter, none of it mattered. He had so many things he needed to figure out that right now he couldn't be bothered to do anything besides run. He ignored the tremble in his hand, and while the mans eyes flicked to his hand, he didn't comment. He simply stared at The Soldier, his eyes seemingly void of all emotion to the untrained eye. But The Soldier wasn't untrained and he could see the mix of hesitation, curiosity, and pity mixed in his eyes. It made The Solider want to lash out. To pull the trigger, and watch as the mans blood painted the sidewalk. But he didn't. He didn't know why, but he couldn't seem to pull the damn trigger. 

The mans eyes flicked down to the gun again, the pity increasing in his eyes. “When was the last time you slept?”

He asked, his voice low and soothing as if he were talking to a rabid animal. Maybe he was. He felt so out of touch with reality and all he seemed to be working on was the last remnants of fear and anger. He was at the end of his rope, and he knew that soon he would collapse from pure exhaustion. The man cocked his head, his hands pushing into his jean pockets, “Well?” 

“I...” His voice was hoarse from disuse and lack of hydration, “I don't know,” he finally muttered, his gun lowering the slightest bit. 

“Well then, c'mon,” 

The Soldier was immediately on high alert, the run snapping back into position as he took a step away. What was this man playing at? Where did he want him to go? He wasn't going back to HYDRA. He didn't know this man, though the man seemed to know his mission—The Captain. And while The Soldier didn't know what he was running from exactly he know in part it had something to do with that man. No matter what he did, he couldn't seem to get away from that man. There were parts of him that wanted to go back to the man to try and understand who he was, but he couldn't risk going back. It was to dangerous.

“No.” He croaked, “I don't want to see him.” 

The mans brows pulled together for a moment, before understanding dawned on him. “I wasn't suggesting we go and see him. You don't seem to be in any condition to deal with Cap hanging off you. He would just be to overbearing and I can tell you from experience, that's not what you need right now.”

Brows crinkling, The Soldier shook his head, “Then where?” 

“Somewhere safe. Where you wont have to worry about anyone finding you. Even Cap.” 

All The Soldier was able to do was stare. Why was this man offering him help. They didn't know each other...did they? “Why?” He finally asked, the gun lowering to his side, “And why should I trust you? You could be HYDRA.” 

“You have no real reason to trust me, but my offer has to be better than what you're doing now. And I can assure you, I'm not HYDRA. I'm nobody anymore, just an Avenger, and I've been avoiding them for a while now.” He sighed, tilting his head back for and staring at the overcast sky, “I know what it's like having someone's will pushed onto you. I understand where you're at and I had help getting better. So I suppose I'm just paying it forward.”

The Soldier stared at him for a long moment. Everything told him not to trust the man, and to run. But he also wanted to trust him. It didn't seem as if he was lying, but he couldn't be sure. Glancing down at the ground he finally nodded, “Alright,” 

The man grinned slightly, “Alright. Good.” He nodded to himself, and turned, flicking his head towards the opening of the ally, “Best get going then, its going to rain soon, and I don't really want to get caught in it.”

The Soldier stared at the mans back before glancing back down the ally. There was nothing for him here, he had ditched his clothes and now only wore dirty rags he stole of someone when they weren't looking. Anything was better than this. Nodding he shoved the gun back into hiding and headed after him, making sure to stay at the mans back. 

Glancing back at The Soldier, the man grinned, “You can call me Clint. Is there anything you want me to call you?” 

“I...I...,” images flashed though The Soldiers mind. The Museum had said his name had been James Buchanan Barnes, or Bucky for short, but that just didn't feel right. It felt like if he were to call himself Bucky he would be trying to become that person. He didn't know if he wanted to be that person again. “James?” he finally said uncertainly.

Clint nodded, “Alright James. My place isn't to far from here, so while we might get rained on a bit, it shouldn't be to bad.”

-x-

Clints place turned out to be perfect in James' mind. It was on the highest floor of the building, with a few windows that were perfect from sniping, and seeing anything and everything. It was a spacious two bedroom home that seemed to be full of comfort. He had a large bookshelf pushed against one wall, with a large entertainment center next to it. The kitchen was fully stocked, and when James wandered down the hall, he found two fully furnished rooms, one looking very lived in, while the other had all the necessities, but was bare of any personal touches. 

“That ones yours,” Clint said as he slipped past James and into the other room. “I have a few things that are a bit large that you can wear until we're able to go out and get you something that's actually your size. Bathrooms across the hall, and everything in the Kitchen is fair game.” 

James glanced towards Clints room before finally stepping into the room, taking a closer look at everything. He let his hand trail across the comforter on the bed, before heading back out to the hall. Clint was standing next to the door James assumed was the bathroom, a pile of clothes and a fuzzy looking towel placed on top, “Why don't you go take to a shower, and Ill put the rest of the clothes in your room,” 

Nodding, James took the clothes Clint held out for him careful not to touch the other man. He nodded to Clint in thanks before slipping into the bathroom and locking the door. Setting the clothes on the counter, James looked at himself in the mirror. He looked nothing like the man he had seen in the museum, and even less so now with the hair growing from his face. His hair was to long, and his skin was to pale, but even despite all that it was comforting. He didn't want to look like Bucky. He didn't know who he really was, but he figured if he was going to attempt to find himself he shouldn't start with trying to be the Captains best friend. 

Walking over to the shower, he turned on the tap, not really sure how he knew what to do, but didn't fight the muscle memory as he adjusted the water to the temperature he wanted. When the water was hot enough to burn, James stripped off his weapons and clothes and stepped under the spray. It burned as he stood under the scalding spray, but it didn't matter to him. It felt good and for a long while he stood under the spray, letting his skin adjust and then just letting the water run over his filthy skin. 

He didn't know how long he stood under the spray before he finally picked up the bar of soap and began scrubbing his skin. The scrubbing hurt worse than the water, but now that he had started he couldn't seem to stop. He scrubbed until his skin was raw, and then scrubbed some more. By the time he felt any better, the water was cold, and James was shivering. Stepping out of the shower, James grabbed the towel and quickly dried himself off and pulled on the clothes. They were a bit to small, but they were comfortable and James wasn't going to complain about warm, clean clothes. 

Picking up the dirty clothes, he slipped back into his room, and deposited them, behind the door. He headed back to the bathroom and grabbed his weapons. He slipped one of his knives into a small holster, and stashed the rest in various locations in his room. He didn't have many, but what he did have he wanted to keep just in case. Once he was satisfied with the location of all his weapons he headed out of his room and into the kitchen where Clint was leaning against the breakfast bar, a cup of coffee wrapped between his hands. There was another on the opposite side of the bar, and when Clint noticed back hovering in the hall, he motioned with his head to the other cup. 

“I don't know how you take your coffee, so it's just black right now. Feel free to add creamer, or sugar as you see fit.” He said in way of inviting James over.

He only hesitated for a moment before slowly heading to the other cup. Lifting it, he sniffed it then took a small sip. Satisfied it wasn't drugged, he took a larger sip, sighing as the warmth spread through his body. Clint watched him drink, nodding to himself before speaking. 

“So...I think the first thing on the agenda for you is getting you some help.” James opened his mouth to speak, but Clint stopped him, “I don't mean having you go to a shrink or anything, I know they don't help shit, but I have a friend who raises service dogs, specifically psychiatric service dogs. Never had one myself, but I've spent enough time around him and his dogs to know they work. And I mean if you ever want to talk about anything I'm here. I probably wont say much that's helpful...I'm not that kind of person, but at least all be here to listen if you need to just talk.” Clint glanced up from his coffee, raising a brow, “Whatcha think about that? Think you can handle a dog?”

James shrugged, “I don't have any money.”

Clint shook his head, “Don't worry about the money. This guy owes me a favor, and as for the food and anything else you might need well, I've got you covered. I have more than enough money, and nothing to spend it on.” He flashed James a smile, “So what do you think?” 

For a long moment James could only stare. “Alright,” He said, “Nothing came to mind when he though to service dogs, but it was a better idea then going and talking to someone. Besides not wanting people to know who he was, he didn't exactly know why he didn't want to go talk to someone, but just the thought of it gave him a bad, uncomfortable feeling. 

“Alright then. We best get some rest then, it'll be a long drive to where he lives, but it will be worth it,” 

-tbc-

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments are much appreciated!


End file.
